A woman's voice called, "Chu Long?"
"Yes..." Chu Long reacted quickly. "Academician Xiang?"
"Song He is sick. His fever made him delirious, and he just fell asleep. Is there anything you need? I can pass on a message for you." Xiang Xiaotong explained.
"Sick?" Chu Long was startled. "Is he all right?"
"It's nothing serious, just a mild case of the flu. He'll be fine in a few days."
"He asked me to go work at Former University of Science and Technology a while ago. I've thought it over, and I really want to go! I'll call him after he's recovered. There's no hurry over the next couple of days!" Chu Long said. "Thank you!"
Medicine Institute at Former University of Science and Technology, Dean's Office.
Song He was feverish and delirious, with his temperature fluctuating between thirty-eight and thirty-nine degrees Celsius. After taking medicine, it could only briefly drop back to thirty-seven.
Some people caught a minor cold every so often, never seriously. Others stayed vigorous for years, then fell ill only once in a while—but when they did, it hit hard, as if fate had been saving up their minor illnesses for one great outbreak.
Unfortunately, Song He belonged to the latter group. Perhaps he had been working too hard for too long, and he had collapsed without warning.
Lethargic, he curled up beneath the blankets. A white mask covered his face, while three virus-absorbing air purifiers sat beside the bed, humming constantly.
His consciousness was hazy too. He felt like a sailor who had fallen ill at sea, lying in a swaying cabin and listening to the engines rumble day and night, drifting between dreams and wakefulness.
A cold hand suddenly brushed his ear and cheek.
"Time to eat, darling." Xiang Xiaotong sat beside the bed